


it comes and goes in waves

by ivorykeys09



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: And I brought back Sara Diggle, Angst, But they are flirty too, F/M, Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 4.5, Summer of UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorykeys09/pseuds/ivorykeys09
Summary: A few weeks before 5x20's salmon ladder scene, Felicity has a different experience watching Oliver use it.Takes place during 4.5's summer of UST. For week 11's "get down" prompt for the hiatus fic-a-thon.





	it comes and goes in waves

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write something for the fic-a-thon all summer and figured this was a good place to start. ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Bouncing Sara on her hip, she exits the lair’s elevator doors and sings, “Sara bo bara, banana fana fo fara, me my mo...mare...uhh...” Her voice trails off at the sight of Oliver. And not the Oliver she’s used to seeing these days: suit-and-tie-always-looking-dapper- _mayor_ Oliver.

No.

This is shirtless-doing-the-salmon-ladder- _sweaty_ Oliver.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, hoping her voice isn’t as breathy as it sounds to her own ears.

Since the team disbanded and the lair/foundry/whatever was wrecked, their weeks have been versions of the same: during the day he mayors, while she rebuilds her computer systems, until he joins her at night to clean the bigger messes. It’s been awkward and normal- _ish_ and only sometimes a little flirty, but overall it’s been really productive and professional.

It works. Mainly because situations like _this_ had yet to arise.

He drops down casually and oh-so gracefully, brows furrowing in confusion as he takes in the sight of them. Or, more specifically, _Sara,_ who nearly leaps out of her arms when she notices the—Felicity swallows— _very_ half-naked man walking towards them. Never one to resist her, Oliver reaches out for the girl almost immediately and Felicity breaks out of her stupor enough to say, “No, you’re too sweat...y,” she finishes lamely, Sara already out of her arms.

Oliver just smirks at her as he settles his goddaughter against his hip. Tiny grabby hands touch every surface of his face, (ugh, she really shouldn’t be this jealous of a two year old), and he playfully catches one of her fingers in his mouth and pretends as if he’s eating it. Sara squeals in delight and the whole thing is so adorable Felicity has to physically look away from them to take a breath.

“Why aren’t you at City Hall?” she asks again, walking over to the circle table.

“It’s after seven,” he answers simply, his voice sounding farther away than expected. She turns back to him and watches as he approaches the salmon ladder again. “And I needed to let off some steam.”

“Hmm,” she hums distractedly as she studies the pair, more curious than nervous by what he’s up to. She knows the foundry is probably not the best place to have a kid but, in all honesty, Oliver has the safest arms in the entire world. Whatever he’s about to do with the little girl and the Steel Sweat-Inducer, she trusts him completely.

(...though she doesn’t know how Dig or Lyla would feel about Sara being down here? She tried to avoid coming down—really, she did—but she’d stupidly left one of her air-gapped laptops on her desk and she really needs it. So, here they are. Babysitter of the Year.)

Felicity takes a seat in one of the rolling chairs and scoots over in their direction, toeing off her heels as she does so. She hears him tell Sara to reach for the sky, then lifts her easily in the air so she can grab onto the bar he’d abandoned just a minute ago. Sara’s more or less just touching the bar, but Oliver holds her as she dangles in the air, giggling and kicking her feet at his body all the while. Feigning injury, he traps her legs between his chest and arm, so he can take his other hand and tickle her side.

Felicity laughs as Sara breaks into another fit of happy screeches. “You’re riling her up,” she accuses softly, trying to ignore the warm feeling blooming in her chest. “She’s never gonna go to sleep tonight.”

It’s only when he does the next thing does she actually want to stop him. He holds Sara with one arm and jumps up to grab the bar with his other. He never tries to raise it (though, with his muscles, he probably _could_ do it one-handed), and just swings back and forth, but it still feels slightly dangerous. Only the little girl’s full-on belly laughs stop her from telling him to get down.

He does anyway, after a minute, and presses a kiss on Sara’s cheek before setting her on the floor to coax her back to Felicity. When Sara reaches her, she pulls up the little girl and snuggles her so she can lay against her chest.

Annnnd what she’d feared is now reality: the front of Sara’s shirt and leggings are damp and smell of sweat and Oliver.

It should be gross, but it’s not. It’s just hot.

(Fuck.)

“I’ll be right back,” Oliver says, and she just twists her chair in the opposite direction so she can’t watch him walk away.

She should just leave. This was supposed to be a quick in and out excursion, since she’d promised Lyla an 8pm sharp bedtime. But the thought of him walking out to an empty lair— _again_ —is too cruel, so she stays put.

They play the _what sound does a cow/horse/cat/etc. make_ game while they wait for him, and Sara’s snorty “oink” is so cute Felicity decides to only ask about pigs so she can hear it over and over again.

She smells his shampoo before he announces his presence, and the aroma makes her chest ache. It’s so familiar and sexy and so _Oliver_ and she has to dampen the urge to hug him so she can bury her face in his neck to breathe him in. Instead, she just takes in the view from afar, silently appreciating his freshly showered (and, thank god, _clothed_ ) form.

“Where’s Lyla?” he asks, taking a seat in one of the other chairs and rolling too close to them. He’s in a grey henley and dark jeans and the whole thing is very much working for her.

“A.R.G.U.S. meeting? I don’t know. I didn’t ask many questions. She looked exhausted, so I said yes before she even asked me to babysit. I have her for the night.” Sara reaches for him again and so Felicity makes the transfer.

She ignores the way her sweaty shirt now smells of him.

“We had fun today, didn’t we munchkin,” Felicity says to Sara, smiling as her curls escape the three clips that’d been pinning them back. She’s fully aware that she’s all up in Oliver’s personal space, but the little girl has already snuggled against his chest, looking very tired all of a sudden, so she tells herself she has to get this close in order to fix Sara’s hair.

She notices Oliver’s eyes drift down her body, his pupils darkening as he does so, and she swallows at the intensity. His gaze sends a coil of heat through her body, which frustratingly turns into embarrassment when she remembers what color shirt she’s wearing. It’s white, and she’s pretty sure Sara’s damp clothes made it transparent in the ten minutes she was on her lap. She’s also pretty sure her purple lacy bra—the one with the ripped right cup thanks to a certain _someone’s_ impatient fingers—is very visible.

The notion that he’s this affected by her has Felicity needing to leave before they do anything stupid. _Now._ Because she is absolutely certain that if Sara wasn’t in Oliver’s arms, she would be.

As nonchalantly as possible, she crosses her own to cover herself. “She’s exhausted. We should head out.”

He ignores that. “Has Lyla heard from Dig lately?”

She rolls her chair back a few feet to add some distance. “Yeah, they Skype’d last weekend. He’s doing okay, from what she told me. Feels like he’s in the right place.” She nods towards Sara, whose eyes have drifted closed, and sighs. “He misses her.”

“I bet.”

“Sara misses him too. She overheard someone at the park today say ‘Dad,’ and then didn’t stop saying ‘dada’ for an hour. It was awful.”

Her words unhinge something in Oliver, and she watches as he spreads his hand over her back, tightening his hold. Sara has grown from a baby to a toddler to an almost-little-girl before their eyes, but she still looks so tiny in his arms. “She loves you,” Felicity muses, giving him a small, warm smile. “If Dig isn’t around, I’m glad you are.”

Clearly touched, he hides his face by pressing a kiss to the top of Sara’s head. There was a time not too long ago where this scene would’ve been a foreshadowed vision of their future. Oliver snuggling their child, down in the lair, while she hacked away at something or other. She’s not ready to give up on that yet, but it’s too much to think about tonight. There are so many more conversations that need to be had between them; and though they don’t seem as intimidating tonight, there are more important things to deal with.

“We should go,” she repeats, this time with a little more finality, before quickly clarifying, “Me and Sara, I mean.”

Nodding, he stands up carefully, settling the girl more comfortably against his shoulder. “Let me carry her to the car so she doesn’t wake up.”

Once she puts on her shoes and grabs the laptop, she follows him into the elevator and out the back entrance. It’s almost comical, but they both hold their breath as he secures her into the car seat, silently praying she doesn’t wake up. She doesn’t.

“Score,” Felicity whispers, fist-pumping the air, as he shuts the door. He takes a few steps back, but doesn’t leave them yet, so she leans against car and plays with her keys. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he answers softly, sticking his hands in his pockets. The look on his face is apologetic and wishful and heated all rolled in one, but he masks it after a few seconds and just clears his throat.

The silence feels heavy and charged, and on any other night she’d act upon it. But tonight, a wave of exhaustion crashes over her, swelling up and clouding her senses. It’s a dangerous feeling; when she’s this tired, she doesn’t think straight. She lets her guard down and makes stupid decisions and gets a little more loose. She also forgives more easily. That type of exhaustion is not a good combination with the warm, handsome man standing a few feet in front of her. She wants nothing more than to give in and surrender to it, to him, and to the calming, peaceful sea he creates. But for the first time in weeks, she won’t be going to bed alone. And though it’s not with him, and with a snuggly little girl instead, the night ahead doesn’t seem so daunting.

She takes a deep breath. “Goodnight, Oliver,” she says, pulling the car’s handle.

Stepping forward, he holds the door open for her until she’s safely buckled inside. “Goodnight,” he answers back before closing it, and then watches them drive away.

.

.

end

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate comments if you liked it! Thanks for reading. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr under the same username.


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